


In Total Darkness

by shipsandthings



Category: Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsandthings/pseuds/shipsandthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troye and Connor can only exist in the dark. Otherwise, there's nothing between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before

**Troye**

  
It wasn’t supposed to happen.

Okay, maybe he _wanted_ it to happen, but all the same, he didn’t _mean_ for them to end up curled together on the couch in Tyler’s hotel room. Their laptops were set aside, curtains were flung open, and the convention center loomed in the distance.

Troye and Connor had started out trying to edit videos one night while Tyler dashed out to meet some of his other YouTube friends for dinner. He'd offered for them to come along, but they were both a bit tired out from the long days of signings and events. So they decided to relax and edit some videos in his hotel room until he got back. Thus far, they'd spent about forty minutes going through footage and pasting it together into something entertaining before the moment of importance happened.

Connor yawned, despite it being just past ten o'clock, and set his laptop down on the end table beside the couch. Then he flipped the TV on to some channel playing schmaltzy romantic comedies and rolled onto his side, laying down on the couch.

“Feeling sleepy already?” Troye asked, looking up from his computer screen. The images were starting to glaze before his eyes as fatigue started to set in.

“Look who's talking,” muttered Connor from his sideways position, sprawled out on the cushy couch. “You've been rubbing your eyes and yawning nonstop for the past hour.”

“True.” Troye shut his laptop and set it aside as well, but when he had nothing to hold and distract him, he found that the only thing his eyes were drawn to was Connor. And that was exactly where they weren't supposed to go.

Because Connor was off-limits. He was cute and nice and straight and perfect. The whole problem, of course, was the straight part.

It was Vidcon 2013, and they had only met a few months ago for the first time, but they had got along swimmingly since then. Tyler was a good friend to both of them and was sort of the glue that kept them in each other's circles. And Troye was simultaneously grateful and frustrated for that, because now he was constantly stuck with the one person he wanted but couldn't have, and frankly, it sucked.

“If you're so tired, you should lay down too,” Connor said. His eyes were heavy-lidded, drifting shut. “The couch is really comfy.”

Connor was currently taking up the entire couch with his body, while Troye had been perched on one of the cushioned chairs. So if he was going to lay down too, it would mean getting really up close and personal to Connor. Which he wanted, desperately, but also couldn't allow himself. Not in this state of stupid, impossible infatuation.

Regretfully, Troye shook his head back and forth. He couldn't give in. Connor was just tired and not thinking straight, and lying next to him would be less than healthy to his mental state. Putting yourself so close to the thing you crave but can't get, that was never a good idea.

“Come on, Troye,” Connor said, a hint of a whine in his voice. Troye shouldn't have found that as cute as he did. “The couch is soft, but these pillows are like square rocks. They're really bad pillows. I bet you'd be way more comfortable.”

Troye was positive he was blushing, he had to be. He was also slowly becoming convinced to do something that was definitely a bad idea. “I don't know...” he said, trying to think of a reason to not platonically cuddle with his friend. Connor probably thought this was no big deal, but to him, it was.

Because, let's be honest, he was halfway there already and was trying desperately to keep his heart caged, protected.

“C'mon, _please.”_

That was all it took. And maybe as Troye nervously strode towards Connor, feeling weak for giving in, he worried it wouldn't end well, but the nerves dissolved the second he reached him. Cautiously, Troye sat down on the edge of the couch before he laid down on his side in front of Connor. He felt like he might roll off the side for a second, until Connor slid an arm around him, pulling him in tight to his body, warm and solid behind him.

As Troye laid there, his head tucked under Connor's chin and their legs tangled, he realized this was both the best and worst thing for him at the moment. Best, because it felt good, it felt right. Worst, because it felt too good, too right.

But now that he was here, Troye figured he might as well savor it. He let out the breath he held and tried to focus on the sensation of Connor's body pressed against his. While he did that, he stared straight ahead at the TV screen, playing the exact variety of cheesy romantic comedy he couldn't stand. However, even the terrible dialogue and unrealistic storyline couldn't pull him out of the moment.

“This movie is awful,” Connor said after about five minutes. Troye was surprised he was still awake, as he'd barely moved since they'd laid down.

“Yeah, it really is,” Troye agreed.

And that was the exact moment that Tyler decided to pull open the door to his hotel room, a styrofoam box of leftovers in his hand and a shocked expression on his face. For a long moment, Tyler stood motionless in the doorway while Troye and Connor stayed frozen on the couch, still entangled. Troye's heartbeat sped up and blood rushed to his cheeks as they were caught, cuddling together. Even if it meant nothing. Even if he thought it meant nothing.

Finally, Tyler managed to stop staring at them with his mouth hanging open. He cleared his throat and stepped inside the room, as if he hadn't let out a gasp just a minute earlier. “So, what's going on here?” he asked as he strode into the living area.

The melodramatic score to the movie was still playing as Connor and Troye struggled to sit up without elbowing each other or falling off the couch. “We were just, um...” Troye began before trailing off.

“We were tired,” Connor said. “And the pillows were kinda hard and uncomfortable, so we... you know.” His voice was higher-pitched than usual, and his face was red with a blush. Troye couldn't help finding it adorable.

This was becoming a problem, wasn't it?

“I see,” Tyler said, though his tone sounded more sarcastic than accepting. Clearly, he didn't quite buy Connor's explanation.

“That's, um, the truth,” Troye added. Well, not the _whole truth._ As in, the fact that the cuddling wasn't quite platonic for one of them. But Tyler didn't need to know that.

Tyler was still holding his leftovers in his hands and continued to look extremely confused. Finally, he said, “Well, in case you're interested, you two look incredibly adorable together. If you wanted to know.” Then he walked away to put his food in the fridge.

He left Troye and Connor sitting on the couch, slightly confused and wondering where they went from here.

 

* * *

 

The next time they touch was a while later at Playlist 2014. A bunch of their friends were packed into someone's hotel room—Troye couldn't even remember whose at this point. Connor was stuck playing Truth or Dare with the O2L boys and some of their friends. He looked like he would rather kill himself than play, as the other players continued yelling for no reason and performing gross dares like licking each other's feet.

Troye was talking with Tyler and Korey across the room from him. He had a plastic cup filled with some disappointing punch, so he just swirled the pink liquid around in a spiral instead of drinking it.

“No way!” Tyler cried after Korey shared a particularly scandalous story that occurred while the two were separated. “You're kidding me.”

Troye laughed weakly. He hadn't been following the conversation very well as it was more of an inside joke between two bffs since college, and he wasn't really sure what was going on. Also, he was kind of distracted, constantly glancing over at Connor.

Right now, he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, and hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes were wide as a girl attempted to lick her elbow but mostly ended up drooling all over her arm. Then Connor's gaze flitted up and was instantly drawn to his. Their eyes locked. “Help me,” Connor mouthed.

Troye wanted to walk over to him, but then Tyler tapped him on the shoulder. “Did you hear the rumor?” he asked.

Confused, he replied, “What rumor?”

After about a minute of Tyler explaining the drama currently floating around the convention, Troye was suddenly pulled out of the conversation. He felt a presence behind him, a slight warmth. And then suddenly, before he could turn and see who it was, someone held him lightly by the shoulder and spun him around.

It was Connor, looking sheepish and embarrassed. Troye was about to ask what was wrong, but then he whispered, “Sorry.” Again, Troye didn't have a chance to ask what was happening before Connor's hand slid up from his shoulder to the back of his neck to pull him in, and then they were kissing.

And this was abrupt and confusing and the opposite of private, but it was... nice. It was good, but this wasn't supposed to be good. It wasn't supposed to be happening. Troye could hear his heart beating as blood pumped through his veins, pounding in his ears, and he felt his stomach clench in surprise. His toes curled in his sneakers, and he gripped his hands into fists, at a total loss of what to do with them.

Connor's mouth, his whole body really, was so perfectly warm and soft and close, and Troye could practically _feel_ himself losing control of this whole situation. He was lost to it. There was no going back now. But for at least a few seconds, he didn't care. He just stood there and let it happen.

When Connor pulled away, the room was silent except for the tinny pop song playing over the portable speakers. Everyone was staring at them, and Troye still had no idea what was going on.

After a moment of awkward silence, Ricky started clapping and said, “You went for that one.” The rest of the Truth or Dare players started whistling and cheering and being kind of obnoxious, but Connor just stared at the ground, hands shoved in his jeans pockets.

“Holy shit,” Tyler finally said, glancing between the two of them.

Troye swallowed at his throat and asked, “Was that a dare?” He hated how timid his voice sounded.

Connor nodded and looked apologetic. “Yeah, one of the girls dared me too. And, um, I'm sorry. I should have just said no. That was just really inappropriate and now everything's awkward and...” He trailed off, waving his hands around as if to take the place of any further words.

“He liked it,” Korey said. Troye felt himself blush even deeper.

Because it was just a stupid dare that meant nothing, but it _felt_ real to him in the moment. And everyone had seen them, and everyone must have seen how far gone Troye already was. How close he was to losing his grip and falling in love, and it was so embarrassing that he wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the covers and pretend it never happened. The worst part was that Connor was so freaking sorry and sweet and nice about it, which just made it sting more.

“You can go back to your game,” Troye forced out. He was too uncomfortable to even look at him.

“I don't want to go back to the stupid game,” Connor admitted. “I mean, I like my friends, but when they're all together and drunk and playing children's games... I can't do it.”

Tyler was glancing between the two of them, as if trying to fit together the last few puzzle pieces. He'd figure it out no problem, Troye knew. He was always the first to know everything.

“Fine, you can stay with us,” Troye said. He was trying to be mad, but he couldn't be. Never could.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take long for them to spin back into each other's orbits.

The next day was the ending dance party for Playlist Live—a mess of pop songs and YouTubers and viewers and flashing lights. Troye found himself dancing on the circumference of the mob, removed from the business of the middle of the crowd. He was stuck between trying to dance seriously and trying to dance like he didn't give a shit, even though he kind of did care what he looked like.

He was dancing for a few minutes to a remix of an Ariana Grande song before Connor came up to him, shimmying all the way. Troye bit his lip and tried not to stare. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Connor replied. “Are you having fun?”

Since they were at the back of the crowd, they could kind of hear each other over the swell of the DJ's music. Except not that well.

“What?” Troye yelled back.

“I said, 'Are you having fun?'”

“I guess.” Troye realized that instead of continuing to dance to the beat, he was now just awkwardly moving to an imaginary rhythm. He attempted to get back into his dancing, but now felt incredibly self-conscious.

“You're really off-beat,” Connor said, moving in even closer. And then he was in his space, hands moving onto his sides and forcing him to sway at the right tempo. Troye felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, like his cheeks were burning up.

“Hey, I'm the musical one here,” said Troye, attempting to shake off the awkwardness with a joke.

“You could've fooled me.” Troye could feel Connor's fingers pressing against his sides as they moved to the fast beat of the song. He tried not to think about the fact that Connor's hands didn't leave him now that he'd found the rhythm again.

“Well, I was... distracted,” Troye said, excusing his lacking dance skills.

“Distracted by what?” Connor asked at the exact second the upbeat Ariana song segued into something slower, softer. As the new voice, male this time, began to sing, Troye felt Connor's grip on him tighten. Just a fraction, barely there, but he noticed.

Troye couldn't very well answer Connor's question, so he didn't say anything in reply. But now they were standing there, in the near darkness, on the edge of the crowd where no one was paying attention to them. There was no way he could step away now. Troye inched in, slid his hands up to Connor's shoulders, and then they were dancing, properly dancing together.

Maybe it was wrong; maybe it was potentially disastrous. Maybe he should have stopped and walked away a long time ago, but the sum of everything had led them here, to dance together. The room was hot, crowded, and noisy, and a veritable mob of teenagers cavorted around them, but in the moment, there was only one thing Troye could see. Only one thing he could focus on.

And as he looked at Connor, he hoped he felt the same.

 

 


	2. In the Dark

** Troye **

 

But the first time they touched, really touched, wasn't until Italy.

They were laughing, stumbling back into their shared room after a day of sight-seeing around Florence. The door fell shut behind them, and the curtains were already drawn from the day before, leaving them in almost complete darkness with only a sliver of starlight through the gap in the blinds. 

“That was incredible,” Connor breathed. Troye could just make out his outline through the black. “I seriously have to keep pinching myself. The food, the architecture, the scenery... I can't believe the trip is over in a few days.”

“Yeah, it's been amazing,” Troye agreed. Neither of them made the move to flick the light switch, simply carrying on their conversation in the dark. 

“And it's especially great to spend it with friends, don't you think?”

“Of course.” 

But Troye could barely speak. Because it was night like any other, (Okay, maybe not quite like any other, seeing as they were in an amazing foreign country.) but there was something different in the air. He could feel it coiled up tight in his core, aching to break free. 

He was lying to himself if he wouldn't admit that this had been building up for a while now. They'd kissed before, albeit as a dare. But the dance the next day was anything but forced, and it had gone on for song after song until Tyler poked them in the arms and urged them to join the larger dance circle. Troye still remembered the regretful way Connor's hands fell from his sides.

And maybe Connor never said out loud that things had changed between them. He never admitted to being attracted or interested in him, but Troye wasn't blind. He could read it all over his face, and by this point, he was tired of waiting.

So, he did what he never expected to do. He reached out. 

When Troye's hand pressed against his chest—light, imploring—Connor's response was immediate. He stepped in close until there was no more space between them. If either of them breathed, their chests would have pressed together.

“Are you sure?” Troye whispered into the blackness, uncertain. “Do you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Shut up.” He didn't want to have to say it. He wanted to feel it. 

“Gladly.” 

And then Connor's lips were on his, and everything else melted away between them. Finally, there was nothing left to get in the way, nothing left to say. In total darkness, they touched.

 

* * *

 

Connor's mouth was warm, but his hands were cold from the chill of the evening wind. His grip raised goosebumps on Troye's arms as Connor held them tightly to his sides. Every movement seemed deliberate and genuine, and it left Troye with no more questions. It was apparent with every swipe of his tongue and flit of his fingers that Connor wanted this, and maybe it was confusing, maybe it still felt like a dream, but this time it was real.

However, Troye wasn't content to lay back and let Connor do all the work because there were things he wanted too. Things he'd been too afraid to ever vocalize, but now he only had to show him. Lightly, Troye pushed Connor back on the bed, so that he was above him. His weight pressed against his chest as he placed a kiss into the side of Connor's neck. Troye felt him shift beneath him, and heat pooled in his core. Finally, was all he could think as he moved lower, sliding down his body.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked, propping himself up on his elbows. His voice sounded lower than usual, breathless.

“Don't talk,” Troye replied as he showed him.

 

* * *

 

“So, is this a thing or a _thing?”_ Connor asked. He had the bedsheet pulled up over him, while the comforter had been kicked down long before. Troye let his eyes settle on him, finally not afraid to look. He traced his gaze over the planes of his skin before letting them settle on his face, green eyes staring back into his.

Connor raced a hand through his mussed hair, a nervous gesture Troye had become accustomed to. But the fact was that Troye didn't really know how to respond to the question. He didn't know what Connor wanted to hear, and he was sure what Connor wanted was different from what he did. Finally, he said, “I, um, I don't know. It can be I guess, if you want.”

Connor bit his lip and looked confused at Troye's non-answer. “Do you mean like a regular thing or a serious thing? Or something else?”

When everyone was insisting on being vague, it made communication very difficult. Troye wanted it to be a thing—he kind of wanted it to be everything. But he couldn't say that out loud. “Well, when we meet up again, I guess we can go from there? I mean, Italy's almost over, and this was really sudden and...”

As he said that, Troye saw Connor's face fall. He didn't know why, couldn't decipher it. He just knew he'd said the wrong thing.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good,” Connor said. 

And as they left the bed, put themselves together for the day, Troye felt a knot of fear twist in his belly. Because all he knew was that he'd fallen too far too fast and there might be no way to save himself now.

 

* * *

 

Once they split up when the Italy trip was over, Troye and Connor went back to being just friends. After all, that was pretty much all you could be when you lived on the other side of the world from someone else. They texted and video-chatted a lot, but it all stayed pretty casual and friendly—no random sexting and whatever. That would have been nothing but awkward. In other words, they went back to normal. 

But Troye knew they couldn't ever be normal again. Not when every detail of that night was burned into his brain like a movie on loop. Not when he knew how Connor's body felt pressed against his and underneath him, how his voice turned breathless, how he looked when he woke up. Not now. 

He was afraid he was the only one who felt this way. Maybe Connor looked at them as just a one-time hook-up that didn't have to mean anything. Maybe he wished it had never occurred at all. So, Troye decided not to say anything about it, and they both pretended it never happened.

Until Vidcon 2014 that was. Connor texted Troye his room number after his flight got in, and Troye spent a stupid amount of time playing with his hair and smoothing down his t-shirt before he finally knocked on the door. And all the fuss was for nothing because the second they saw each other, they were kissing. 

It wasn't one or the other leaning in. The moment they locked eyes, they both knew. The slide of Connor's mouth against his was both familiar and somehow new, and the second they touched, Troye decided he need more—a lot more. Using his slight height advantage, he directed them into the room until they fell onto the hotel bed—still tightly made and crisply clean. 

“I think Tyler wants to get dinner later,” Connor said when Troye pulled away an inch to get a hold of the hem of his shirt. 

“Key word—later,” Troye replied, not stopping his mission to get them both undressed as swiftly as possible. He tugged the fabric upwards, making quick work of it. 

“Yeah, exactly,” said Connor, laying his head back on the bed and giving in totally.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't always literally dark when they touched. Sometimes it was in the middle of the day with the sun still shining hot and slotting over the sheets. But they only ever touched with doors locked, with bitten tongues, with drawn blinds. And when they were done, they returned everything to the way it was, and never mentioned the altercation again.

Not in the daylight. Not when someone might overhear them. 

They also never talked about why this was. Why they were so hellbent on keeping whatever they were a secret. Because that would be like opening up a window, like letting the light hit what fragile thing they had.

If there was one thing they were positive of, it was that they could only exist in secret, in the dark, in a place where no one else could see them. 

 

* * *

 

Troye remembered creeping down the hotel hallway back to his room one night. The bright lights burned his eyes from the contrast of Connor's night-cast room, and he sped-walked towards his place, only a few doors down. However, before he got there, he saw a neighboring door pull open, and Zoe stepped out into the hallway.

After jumping in surprise, Troye tugged at his shirt and tried to appear totally innocent and casual. Zoe just looked confused, standing there in the hallway in her oversized pajama top and plaid sweat pants. “Could you not sleep either, Troye?” she asked. Her voice sounded a bit drowsy and raspy, understandable due to the late hour.

“Oh, uh, no I couldn't,” he said. He hadn't exactly _tried_ to sleep yet.

“Yeah, I don't know what it is. I just couldn't drift off, and I didn't want to bother Alfie, so I decided to go for a little stroll til I get tired.”

“I understand,” Troye replied. “I tried to sleep too, but it wasn't working.”

Then Zoe's eyebrows raised as she looked at him. “Oh, I've just noticed. You're still in your jeans.”

Troye bit his lip and wondered how to wriggle out of this one. Finally, he answered, “I was in my boxers, but I didn't think that was appropriate attire for walking the halls. You know.”

“Okay, that makes sense.” 

Troye thought he'd answered her questions quite thoroughly, but she still looked a bit skeptical. Or maybe she was just sleep-deprived. He couldn't tell. He was about to bid her goodbye and a good sleep and slip into his room, but then she spoke again.

“I noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Connor lately.” Oh no. This wasn't supposed to come up. He couldn't talk about this. He'd already lied enough for one day. “I'm so glad you've become such close friends.”

“Connor's a good friend.” His voice wobbled a little on the word 'friend.' He hoped she wouldn't notice, but this was Zoe he was talking about. She noticed a lot more than she let on.

“I don't know what it is, but you two seem to just go together so well. I've always thought that. You're so sweet together.”

“Sweet?” Troye's voice inched up in pitch at that question, and he winced at how obvious he was being.

“I just mean... I love how much you care about each other, and your personalities are good together. It's really a wonderful thing. You know, friendship.” And Troye could be seeing things due to the fact that it was creeping up on one AM, but he was certain he saw Zoe smirk.

Before she could say anything more, Troye politely raised his hand in a wave and mumbled out a goodbye. Then he raced back down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

** Connor **

 

It was during one of Connor's signings that Troye crept up behind him (to the screams and cheers of the viewers waiting in line), leaned in, and whispered in his ear, “I need to see you. Like, as soon as you're done.”

Connor's face immediately turned deep pink, and his black Sharpie signature on a girl's “Internet Kids Never Sleep” poster wobbled. “Oh, um, sure you can get in this picture,” he said, covering for him. The girl looked like she might have cried with joy as she positioned herself between the two of them. The camera light flashed in his face, practically blinding him. His smile felt plastered on as he moved onto the next person in line, and Troye slipped away as quickly as he'd arrived.

And of course, Connor jetted out of the convention center the moment he snapped the last photo. He excused himself to lunch and instead headed to the hotel room he and Troye practically shared.

 

* * *

 

The thing was, when they were together with the curtains drawn and covers pulled up, they could say anything. Connor blurted out whatever thought entered his head, which was sometimes embarrassing and sometimes wildly inappropriate. Troye seemed to appreciate the things he said for the most part, grinning or reciprocating in kind.

But when they were done, rolled onto their sides and sunlight pushing through the gaps in the blinds, they seemed to have internally agreed that the time for words was over. Connor stayed on his side of the bed, rolled onto his side, and tried to catch some sleep before he sneaked back to his room. 

He'd never pictured any of relationships to be like this—so ultimately silent. But it wasn't really a relationship, was it? This was just a thing they did, and of course they never talked about it. It was indefinite and confused and kind of screwed up. 

Connor didn't want it to be this way. He wanted to be able to freely tell Troye all the things he felt about him, and he didn't want to have to hide their connection from everyone. But Troye lived on the other side of the world, they barely saw each other, and he was about to make it big with his music. He had better things on the horizon—Connor was probably just something casual he figured he'd try out before he moved on. 

And he didn't mean it like Troye was selfish or that he was going to abandon his old friends. That wouldn't happen. But Connor doubted Troye would want to date him seriously when he could have someone so much better—someone better than the closeted, confused YouTube boy he could have whenever he wanted.

Because he would always be there. Waiting.

 

* * *

 

It was a few months later, and Troye was finally, finally back in LA, and he was looming over him and all at once Connor felt like a shadow, cast out, reflected onto the sheets, and unable to act for himself, unable to pull away on his own volition. There was something terribly sad about that, but he felt no desire to change it—he'd already been drawn in too far. 

After all this time, they were very careful still. Sometimes Connor knocked on Troye's hotel door, glancing over his shoulder all the way. Sometimes Troye texted him to say he was standing outside his apartment, and he needed him. It was always need, never want. Connor couldn't decide whether that was good or bad yet. 

It was unhealthy, and he knew it. What had started out sweetly had devolved into something so covert it felt dirty. The worst part was Connor still had no intention of walking away. For all its flaws, he found the situation too satisfying to give up.

Behind closed doors, there was almost no risk that anyone would find out about them. That was, if they were able to keep their feelings to themselves, which had never been something Connor was good at. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, on display for all to see. But in his effort, he reread his tweets three times before posting them and constantly checked his tongue, always careful to keep from tipping people off.

Of course, the person most likely to discover them was Tyler. They often hung out as a threesome, or with Korey as a group of four. Spending so much time around him raised the risk, as did the fact that they were comfortable together. You're always more likely to accidentally reveal things to your close friends.

They were hanging out one night after Tyler and Troye had filmed their collabs for Tyler's Auguest series, all well on their way to getting buzzed. Tyler had flicked on a random channel while they chatted about whatever came up. 

“I just don't get why you _still_ won't tell me who 'Touch' is about,” Tyler whined over his can of beer. He was sprawled out on his couch, looking slightly disheveled. “I'm basically your best friend, just tell me.”

Troye laughed nervously. “I don't know, it's kind of personal.”

“You told me about 'Gasoline,'” Tyler replied. “You said that was your most personal song, so why can't you—”

“C'mon, Tyler. I just don't want to.” Troye pouted in his chair and took another long sip to ward off further conversation. 

Connor knew who the song was for, but he kept his face neutral so Tyler wouldn't notice. The moment he'd heard the song and its lyrics, he knew. It was about him and that night in Italy when Troye had reached out to him in the dark. But Tyler couldn't know, no one could, because that would spill everything out onto the table, and there was no way things could go back to normal after that. 

They could only exist in the dark. Otherwise, they were nothing.

“Can I guess?” Tyler asked. Troye looked further annoyed, but in Tyler's tipsy state he didn't pick up on it. “Okay, is it your ex that shall-not-be-named?”

“No,” Troye muttered. He'd told both of them the story of his ill-fated former boyfriend, the one from some of his other songs. 

“And I know it's not about me...” Tyler said, trailing off in thought. “Is it someone I know?”

“I don't want to talk about this.”

“Ooh, is it someone from YouTube? Like, a scandalous hook-up you never told me about?” Connor could tell Tyler was just guessing and speculating, and that he didn't actually know anything concrete about the two of them, but Troye turned red.

“I told you I don't want to talk about this, okay? All you need to know, is I touched somebody once and we did shit. It could be about literally anyone.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow and didn't seem to understand why Troye was getting so upset. “But clearly it's not just about anyone. It's a very specific someone if you're getting this pissed at me.”

Connor tried to break the tension and finally spoke. “Wow, that is one hideous wedding dress,” he said, pointing at the screen. _Say Yes to the Dress_ was playing. 

“I think it's kind of cute,” Troye said through his teeth after glancing at the screen, barely concealing his frustration. Then the three friends sat in silence for the remainder of the episode until their heightened emotions cooled down enough for proper communication.

“Sorry for pushing you, Troye,” Tyler finally said. “I was just curious, since we talk about pretty much everything else.” For a second, he paused and glanced between the other two. “Although not so much anymore.”

Troye brushed off his statement with, “I think everyone's just protective of their art and whatever. But anyway, apology accepted.”

Tyler frowned. It was obvious over the past few months that a slight rift had formed between Tyler and Troye, mostly due to the fact that Troye was keeping such a big secret from him. Tyler clearly noticed and wanted to fix it, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do. Connor felt bad for Tyler—he hadn't done anything, but all of sudden, they were growing apart. 

“You've been awfully quiet today, Connor,” Tyler said finally, turning his steady gaze to him. His eyes were slightly glassy from the drinks, he noticed.

“I don't know, I just...” Connor didn't know what to say to that. He just felt that a part of him was being lost. 

He couldn't act the way he wanted around Troye because that would give away that his feeling ran deeper than friendship or friends with benefits or whatever they were. He couldn't act normally around Tyler because that would give away his and Troye's changed relationship. He couldn't talk about it with his other friends or his parents or his siblings because that was too risky, and that would open up a river in him. If he divulged his emotions to even one person, for even one minute, he wouldn't be able to stop them from flowing outward indefinitely. He had to keep them closed up, bottled tight. 

“I guess I just don't feel well right now,” Connor conceded.

But that was only the beginning of it. 

 


	3. In the Light

** Connor **

 

Things continued like that for quite a while.

More and more, Connor found it increasingly difficult to hold his tongue and keep his feelings tucked away. He wanted to say something; he didn't want it to have to be like this, but he couldn't figure out how to express it. He had swallowed down the mess of words so often that he felt sick to his stomach, the bitten-back admissions swirling and brewing there. The whole situation had turned toxic.

Maybe not by appearances. They still put on a reasonably good facade, still faked their smiles convincingly enough. But they certainly weren't fooling each other. 

Then one morning in autumn when Troye was in America for music-related business, they were sitting together in Connor's kitchen after spending the night together. It was early, so early the sun still looked hazy and orange peeking through the window. Troye was brewing tea, while Connor was frying eggs next to him on the stove, and it struck him how domestic the scene was. But then again, this whole thing was nothing but a farce.

Because he was in love, had been for quite some time, and they were just friends with benefits. And the friend part was slipping away before his eyes. 

Everything between them felt strained, mostly because it was impossible to be honest when Connor felt the way he did. They barely laughed together anymore, and when they spent time with other people, it was awkward and false. 

Connor tightened his grip on the pan, as if clinging onto whatever they had left. Then in a burst of stupid bravery, he blurted out, “What the hell are we doing? Literally, what the hell are we doing?”

Troye's blue eyes darted towards him, held his gaze. After a second's pause, he replied, “Literally, we are frying eggs and making tea. If that's what you mean.”

At this point, with his heart pounding in his ears and cheeks flushed, Connor couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny or if he was purposely avoiding the question. “This isn't a joke. I'm not joking.”

“Neither am I.”

“So, what the actual fuck are we doing?” Connor knew his voice was raising in pitch and volume word by word. He knew his eggs were burning in the pan, but he couldn't focus on anything but the held-back words slipping out of his mouth. “What are we? What is this?How do I keep freaking convincing myself this means something? How do you have this effect on me?” 

The smell of burnt eggs hit his nose, and Connor, with shaking hands, turned off the heat while the blackened food popped and sizzled and filled the silence. Troye just stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted, and didn't say anything.

All Connor wanted to do was run or hide or walk away, but this was his apartment, and he couldn't do that. That left only one other option. His voice shaking, he said, “Can you just go? Like, just go. I can't...”

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Troye flicked off the flame on the stove and turned his back to him, making his way to the door. Connor felt his stomach drop to the floor, felt a chill run down his back. But all he could do was listen to the sound the door made as it fell shut.

 

* * *

 

** Troye **

 

Numbly, Troye sat on the hotel bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his back pressed against the headboard. He stared at the TV and its blank screen, but couldn't summon the will to flick it on—if even just as a distraction.

Because there had been a moment. A moment where he could have opened up, could have said what he'd been holding back for months on end. A moment where he could have fixed everything, but instead his tongue lay heavy in his mouth and his throat closed up, and he said nothing. Then he left.

Why didn't he just speak up? Why didn't he reply to Connor's question—his question of “What the hell are we doing?”—with the truth? With what he actually felt?  
Why didn't he just say: “I don't know what the hell we're doing. It's been messy and screwed-up from the start, but all I know is I've been getting to know you and discovering you and falling in love with you for months now. And that's all I want to do now. I don't want to have to hide us anymore. I want to be with you.”

But he said nothing. Then Connor got mad or scared or something and asked him to leave, so he did. Troye had never understood missed opportunities as well as he did in that moment. 

Maybe he should text him. Maybe he should call him. But instead he felt frozen, paralyzed on the bed. 

Because Connor also asked, “How do I keep convincing myself this means something? How do you have this effect on me?” Clearly, this thing they were doing was putting him through the wringer. Troye wasn't good for him. Sometimes you had to walk away, sometimes you were supposed to. Maybe that was what Connor meant—they were destructive together and it had to stop.

So, Troye successfully talked himself out of doing anything but sliding under the covers at 10 AM and sleeping until the knots in his stomach came undone.

 

* * *

 

Back home, Troye watched as things fell apart. He and Connor hadn't talked since that fateful morning, and people definitely noticed. During their phone calls, Tyler repeatedly asked what had happened between them, but Troye simply shut the questions down—or he shut down himself and hung up. His family also noticed the conspicuous lack of Connor mentions. Most of all, their viewers noticed the sudden disappearance of interaction—no more twitter conversations or mentions of any kind. 

He ignored all of it. Instead of thinking about the situation or attempting to fix it, he poured all of his energy into his music. There was quite a lot to do while recording his full-length album, so he certainly kept busy. 

Troye didn't think he was supposed to go home feeling empty when in reality all his dreams were coming true. Even his producer felt something was off, the way his voice sounded detached and flat, but he insisted everything was fine. 

When he was shipped back to LA for some music business and a random YouTube meet-up, everyone noticed something was strange. He was at a massive party with all of his YouTube friends, and everyone tried to slide back into casual conversation with him, tried to make the same old jokes. At first, he laughed and offered sly hints about his music to appease them.

That all went out the window the second the door opened and Connor walked in. He had his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, and his eyes were trained on the ground while his shoulders slumped. Despite the timid entrance, Troye couldn't look away. The entire night was frozen for him.

“Troye?” asked one his friends. He couldn't remember which. 

“Sorry,” he muttered but didn't look back. “I have to... I have to go.” Then, nearly tripping over his weighted feet, he walked towards the one guy he'd been dying to talk to, but hadn't spoken to in months. When he closed the distance between them, Troye felt the familiar sensation of his throat closing up around his words. He pursed his lips and stood there in silence until Connor glanced up and fixed his gaze on him. 

Troye was struck by how quickly they'd gone from being so close to him being unable to read him at all. There was something sad in his eyes, Troye could tell that much. He had the horrible feeling that he'd put the pain there.

“Hi,” he finally managed to force out.

“Hi.” 

Troye opened his mouth, fully intending to say something apologetic and appropriate, but all that came out was, “I, um, I like your shirt.”

Connor just stared at him for what felt like an entire minute. Troye was about to turn around and make a run for it, until he heard footsteps approaching them. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Zoe and Tyler marching in their direction, elbows linked and determined expressions on their faces.

“Zoe, Tyler,” Connor said. The smile on his face was the most forced thing Troye had ever seen. He watched him reach out to hug them, and he felt like something sharp had pierced his heart. What had he done? How could he have broken him this way?

“Connor, it's lovely to see you, but we can talk later,” Zoe said, extricating her elbow from Tyler's and grabbing Connor by the forearm. “Something more important is going on here.”

Then Tyler took Troye by the shoulder and gently pushed him towards the hallway while Zoe dragged Connor behind her. “It really is wonderful to see you both, but now we have to take you away and lock you up,” Tyler said once they'd exited the party room. He turned the handle on a doorway down the hall.

“Um, excuse me?” Troye asked, confused. 

“You two need to talk,” said Zoe, giving Connor a little push into the darkened room. It looked like little more than a small storage room, with a few boxes and chairs littered about. At the back, there was a large window overlooking the city.

Zoe stood in the doorway, blocking their way out. “Tyler and I have been talking about this for a bit. We don't know what's happened between you both, but we know you haven't been talking.”

“You need to communicate,” Tyler said. “So much can be fixed by just opening your mouths... that sounded dirty.” Troye stared at them while his stomach clenched. Being locked in a room with Connor? That would have made him happy and excited once upon a time, but now it just made him nervous. Because that meant the truth coming out, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

“We love you both, but you haven't been yourselves lately,” Zoe said. Sympathy was written across her face as she offered them a small smile of encouragement. “Just talk to each other, okay?”

“We'll be back in an hour,” Tyler added, and then he pulled the door closed, shutting them into the room. Troye heard a key turn in the lock before he heard their footsteps walking back down the hallway. Knowing it was no use, he reached out and tested the handle—it didn't budge. He let out a sigh, pressed his back against the wall and stared at the ceiling in the dark. 

Outside the window, there was little more than sliver of moonlight and distant city lights to illuminate the room. All of the stars were hazed out by pollution. Only when Troye drew his gaze back down from the ceiling and towards Connor did he realize how similar this situation was to the one more than six months earlier—the night in Italy that he kept remembering. Much as he tried to forget it. 

“You really don't want to be around me, do you?” Connor blurted out. Troye's eyes darted towards him, but he was nothing but an outline, nothing to see.

“Why would you say that?” he replied, confused as to what would make him say that.

“You just tried to escape out the door. If that doesn't mean something, I don't know what does.”

“They locked us in here. Why shouldn't I check the door?” Troye felt something like anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, a retort already flying out of his mouth. “Besides, you're the one who told me to get out of your apartment in the first place.”

“You're the one who wouldn't tell anyone about us.”

“Excuse me?” Troye snapped. “You wouldn't tell anyone either.”

“Well, you kept acting like we were some kind of friends with benefits shit when it was obvious I—”

“Obvious you what? Obvious you were just using me to experiment with?”

Even in the darkness, he could tell Connor would be flushed red by now. How did he still know that? Then, his voice low, Connor whispered, “You're the one who was gonna leave me the second someone better came along.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You're the one who wouldn't come out, who kept acting like he was into girls when I was always the only one who ever could—”

But there was no way he could finish his sentence with Connor's mouth against his and his body pinning him to the wall. All the anger seemed to fade away as their bodies pressed together. Troye felt his knees weaken and give way, but Connor followed him to the ground, never separating their lips. Squeezing his eyes shut, Troye tried to convince himself that this was real—he never thought this would be real again.

Together, they sat together on the tile floor, limbs messily entangled with each others. Connor was sort of hunched over him, his fingers caught in his hair, while Troye kept his grip on Connor's sides, holding him close. 

When Connor pulled away a moment later, his eyes still closed, Troye felt the fear bubbling up in his stomach again. Because did this mean they were going back to the way they were before? There was no way he could go back there again—his heart couldn't take it, even if his body craved it. 

“This isn't a matter of one of us apologizing. We were wrong. We were both wrong,” Connor said. 

With that, Troye felt the tension leave him in an instant. He felt like laughing for some reason. Why couldn't they have just opened their mouths earlier and argued about it? Stood up for what they wanted? Then they would have seen what they'd been overlooking. They both wanted more, but they both thought the other didn't. It was the ultimate error of communication. 

“We were wrong,” Troye repeated. Softly, he placed his hand on the side of Connor's head, raced a thumb across his cheek and watched him smile in the shadows. “But now we can stop being stupid, and do it right.”

 

* * *

 

When Zoe and Tyler came back an hour later, Troye and Connor were holding hands and leaning against the wall, waiting for them. The moon cast a soft outline around them, but once the door was open, a sheet of light from the hallway illuminated them fully. Finally, they could stand together, luminous.

 

* * *

 

Of course it wasn't easy. These things never were. At the very least, they were at a YouTube gathering and could tell a lot of their friends at once. Some people were surprised, but they were all extremely supportive. Troye couldn't remember the last time he'd been given so many hugs. 

Later that night after dancing and leaving their worries and fears behind in the dust, Troye and Connor Skype-called both of their families. They felt that hiding their relationship for any longer would just be destructive—they had to get it out in the open as soon as possible. 

Troye's family seemed strangely unsurprised, only a few bemused smiles and congratulations to be had. “What?” Troye asked. “They knew I had a crush on you for over a year now.” He paused, smirked. “And they know I always get what I want.”

Telling Connor's family was tougher, as there was a bit more explanation to be had. But after a few minutes, they understood and exchanged “I love yous,” while Connor promised to visit as soon as he could. Then he closed his laptop and pulled Troye close. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Please don't thank me,” Troye said. “I know it was all a misunderstanding these last few months, but I hurt you. And I'm sorry.”

“I was in the wrong too,” Connor replied. “I should have just told you how I felt, but I didn't want to mess up what we had... even if it wasn't good for either of us.”

“We both made a lot of mistakes, but now's our chance to fix them. So let's do that. Starting right now.” 

Connor let out a laugh before he squeezed his hand tightly in his. “Okay, let's start now.”

 

* * *

 

There's something romantic about the dark, about the night. Like the way the blackness wraps up the world in shadows, leaving it mysterious and dreamy. The darkness makes everything a secret, and there's always going to be something alluring about that. 

Meanwhile, the light can be unforgiving. It can reveal all the flaws that are so easily hidden in the dark, can open you up to judgment and stares. However, at the same time, the light can reveal beautiful things—reflections and colors and freckles and details. 

Stepping into the light can be daunting when you're used to shadow, but as Troye held Connor's hand in his while they walked out of Connor's apartment late one morning, he couldn't help but think that it was just as romantic—maybe even more so—to love someone in the light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think--nothing makes me happier than reading comments and messages. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story so far! Leave me a comment and let me know what you think of this little beginning. Thanks for reading!


End file.
